


honey, take them to church

by inanotheruniverse



Series: love they say [3]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Ashlyn Harris/Ali Krieger - Freeform, F/F, Kelley O'Hara/Emily Sonnett - Freeform, No Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 22:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inanotheruniverse/pseuds/inanotheruniverse
Summary: “I bet it’s a trick.”Tobin chuckles before taking a small sip of the swirling red liquid in her hand, the sound muffled by the glass pressed against her mouth. But her gaze never leaves Allie’s form, who’s eyeing the unmoved hammer resting on top of the Krieger-Harris’ coffee table with so much skepticism, she could be part of the council.or some of the gayng™ as the avengers heroes





	1. Chapter 1

“I bet it’s a trick.”

Tobin chuckles before taking a small sip of the swirling red liquid in her hand, the sound muffled by the glass pressed against her mouth. But her gaze never leaves Allie’s form, who’s eyeing the unmoved hammer resting on top of the Krieger-Harris’ coffee table with so much skepticism, she could be part of _the council_.

“It’s really not,” says Tobin. She licks at her lips, savoring the taste of the red wine that lingers. (How can she not? When it came from halfway across the world, brought and offered by the hands of the one person she travels universes for just to see.

Though, it’s always going to taste better off of Christen’s lips.)

“It’s much more than that.”

Beside her, Christen wholeheartedly agrees. “It is. Trust me. I’ve already tried.”

Tobin twists to face her, her golden brown hair swaying with the movement. She leans up, presses what’s meant to be a chaste kiss full of sympathy on Christen’s lips. But the wine is already talking, letting her tongue loose, and so what’s meant to be something innocent ends up with Allie having to break them apart with a perfectly aimed throw pillow, smack dab in the middle of their faces.

Christen pulls away first, stooping down to hide her laughter on Tobin’s neck. The other woman, in turn, glares disapprovingly at Allie.

(She didn’t travel back to Earth all the way from Asgard to be… interrupted like this.)

“Whatever, _Harry_. It’s a trick,” Allie continues to insist.

Tobin only snorts in response. Then, she lifts a hand, gesturing at the hammer that’s still standing in a slant, its ancient handle pointing upwards while half of its body rests on top of the monopoly board game they have long since discarded. “Please, be my guest.”

Alex bolts up from the couch she’s lying on, interest clearly piqued. “You’re serious? You’re gonna let her try?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Allie slowly heaves herself up, a smug smirk already forming. She struts towards the hammer, fingers wrapping around the handle as she says, “You do know I’ve seen you do this before, right, Tobs?”

The woman in question merely shrugs. Though, her light chuckles turn into a full blown laugh at the sight of Allie’s face crumpling as she tries to lift the _mjolnir_. Her grunts echo all over the penthouse’s living room, but Alex’s cackle wins over and drowns out the sound.

“Hey!” Allie gripes at the other woman. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me with this?”

“It’s not my thing,” Alex rasps. “I let my gadgets do the lifting.”

Allie gives the hammer two more tugs, a third that she swears almost busts her shoulder joint (a thing that she’s probably going to pay the price for with a couple of missed arrows until the throbbing fades away.)

But the damn thing doesn’t even move an inch.

“Do you smell that, Agent Long? It’s silent judgement.” Ashlyn jests from her spot. A hissed _oomf_ follows as she feels the sharp elbow her wife, Ali, nudges her side with.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you walk the walk, then?”

“I’m never one to back down from a challenge.”

She stands up, pops off the button of her black coat, and shrugs it off. Allie moves back to her seat, letting Ashlyn take her place. “It’s all about Physics, really.”

The other woman then darts a hand out, only pulling it back when the red and gold metallic hand of her iron suit slides itself on her outstretched right hand. She holds the hammer’s handle next, and says, _so if I lift it, I get to rule Asgard, right_ before firing up the suit’s hand’s mini-jet engines.

It doesn’t budge; _of course_ it doesn’t. Tobin’s smirk grows into a grin.

“I guess it’s my turn to try?” Emily finally speaks. She begrudgingly disentangles herself away from the warmth Kelley’s arms are encaging her with—just to get it over with so she can go right back to cuddling with her girlfriend—pulling the sleeves of her hoodie up to her elbows.

Though, before she can drag her ass off the couch, Kelley is already pulling her back, cupping her cheeks to press a good luck kiss. “You can do it, babe.”

Across them, Alex groans in protest as Allie shouts, “Get on with it, Cap! You can make out with Doctor O’Hara later! The honor of us mere mortals are at stake here.”

Emily chuckles, shaking her head. She slides off the couch, plants her feet right in front of the hammer, and lets both her hands firmly grip the handle in two tight fists.

She gives it a hard tug, holding her breath just so she can pull without the mere force of the ancient weapon making her stumble forward. She feels her arms and her muscles ripple in protest over the weight, but she soldiers on just like every bit of the captain that she is.

And then, like a miracle, it moves.

Nobody really notices the miniscule movement, that small moment where the hammer is slightly lifted off of the table. Save for Tobin, who is now watching with bated breath as Emily tries to pull it a second time.

It’s six seconds of _great Odin, my dad’s gonna throw me to Niflheim_ echoing inside her head, until Emily sighs in defeat and shakes her head.

Tobin lets out a nervous laugh, then takes a huge gulp of wine to douse her suddenly parched throat.

“I’m starting to think it’s rigged,” Ashlyn states, pointing at the hammer with her beer can. “It only responds to Tobin’s fingerprints.”

“Interesting theory,” answers Tobin. This time, it’s her who holds the handle, picking _mjolnir_ up like its weight is made of feathers.

She shrugs, throws the hammer into the air in a flip, and catches it easily with one hand.

“Or you know, you’re all just not worthy.”


	2. all those pretty lights

From her perch by the glass windows, Christen lets out another wistful sigh. The streets beneath her are bustling with people out on a lively night, all of them celebrating the end of another busy week.

Two lamp posts across hers, she sees a couple get off of the nearby bus stop, and her fingers curl around the edges of the thick stack of papers resting on her lap, suddenly hit by a pang of longing that spreads quickly all over her chest. It doesn’t really help get past the same set of lines she’s been trying to read for the last half hour, or get her anywhere to finishing the proposal of her new non-profit project under UNICEF.

It’s still fourteen days until the start of her scheduled first day of work, but it never hurts to be prepared, thus her turning into this version of herself for the past two weeks: a complete homebody clad in a loose shirt and sweatpants.

(And it also has been fourteen days since she has last seen this brown-eyed, meek demigod; Christen doesn’t really see the point of candle-lit dinners for one, even though there’s a bottle of wine cooling somewhere in her fridge.)

She finds herself looking out the window again, past the glass and onto the darkening sky. It’s just half past seven when she last checked, but the midnight hues are already making their way into the spaces vacated by the waning sunlight.

Her gaze settles on the tall tower at the heart of the city, with a spire that looks like a thin needle from where she’s sitting. She watches each of its floors be slowly flooded with light, and then sucks in a deep, doleful breath because here she is, a very accomplished woman with a long line of achievements and an even longer list of all sorts of invites, and yet, she’s locked in her room, fleeting between people watching and gazing at the view.

(It’s probably a little pathetic, already missing someone this much when they’ve only really been together for a little less than three months.

And, _okay_ , they’ve been friends for a little, and dancing around their feelings even longer, but, _still_.)

Christen doesn’t really know how long she has been staring at that same spot, just that her mind is not in this room—not even on Earth at all—but out there floating through space and to what she imagines Asgard looks like.

The cloud above the spire flashes on and off, until a crackling bluish light darts from under it, wrapping around the metal extending from the spire’s cone tip like vines. But it’s the ensuing sound of thunder that breaks Christen’s reverie, making her jump out of her skin.

Another flicker of blue, so quick that she almost misses it. But she doesn’t, and when her brain finally catches up to whatever it’s witnessing, she realizes _what_ it exactly is.

 _Lightning_.

Christen feels the spark of a third at the tips of her fingers, feels the tingle of a current that shoots straight to her spine when two more crackle into the open air.

For a moment, Christen honestly wonders if it’s just going to rain—because despite dating the daughter of the God of Thunder, she still finds it hard to tell—until more lightning follows and the thunders growl louder and louder.

Anticipation rises and builds in her bones, right in the parts of her that misses Tobin most. And when a burst of colors pops right out of the sky, forming a luminous, cylinder-like passage that connects the sky to the ground, Christen all but throws everything she has in her hands before racing out of her room and straight to her apartment building’s rooftop.

The portal is a good distance away, but the lights are bright enough that it dances in Christen’s eyes; like in one episode of Space Odyssey she once watched: a star burning brightest just before it explodes, and it scatters glittering particles all over the vast, empty space when it does.

Fifteen beats and a hundred startled people later, the bright portal vanishes without a trace. If not for the whirring sound that echoes in the cold night, Christen would think she’s merely imagined it.

But there it _is_ , like a propeller engine that’s spinning too fast. Behind it is a small figure, practically a dot in the sky, but Christen would know _her_ from anywhere.

The spinning sound ceases as Tobin drops herself on the rooftop, in the exact same spot she always lands on whenever she travels from Asgard and straight to Christen’s home. Tobin can tell where it is, as it’s the only piece of concrete that has indents of her boots—most times, sneakers—in it.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” she gasps, her face comically horrified as more chunks of concrete break away from the floor. “Babe, your landlord is going to kill me one of these days!”

Christen can’t help but laugh at that; at how Tobin’s presence is often announced in the loudest and most grandiose of ways, but she’d stand there, all shy and profusely apologizing for the ruckus she hadn’t meant to cause.

“Don’t be silly,” Christen answers, chuckling. As if her forty-seven year old landlord will pick a fight with a demigod.

She takes a few seconds to admire her girlfriend in her full regalia: long, flowy brown hair, the red cape that honestly looks heavier than her and Tobin’s weights combined, the royal steel armor (a family heirloom), and the adorable, smaller pair of black boots.

(She takes _the_ time, rarely seeing Tobin in her Asgardian clothes, because her girlfriend makes such a great effort to blend in well while she’s on Earth, and efface the glaring reminder that she isn’t quite human while Christen wholly is.)

Though, Christen figures that there must be _something_ , with Tobin meeting her in those clothes, and looking like a nervous mess despite how much she tries to hide it.

But _whatever_ it is will just have to wait, she thinks, as she crosses the distance separating them to give Tobin a long, tight hug, and a much longer _where-the-hell-have-you-been_ kiss.

They only pull away when the hammer slips from Tobin’s hold, cracking a brand new crater open on the concrete. It’s a little deep that Tobin can’t help but wince at the sight. “Okay, _now_ , he’s really going to kill me.”

“He isn’t!” Christen playfully chides in between soft laughs. “He’s scared of you, you know that, right?”

Tobin snorts, and then rolls her eyes. “He’s six feet and a half.”

“Yes, but he isn’t the heir of Thor.”

“Ah well,” she concedes, then eases up to steal another kiss that Christen gladly gives, swallowing whatever she’s going to say next.

...

 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you but,” Christen starts to say. ( _Finally_ , after five _one mores_ and ten _this is the last, I swears_.) “What’s with the fancy outfit?”

“Huh? What?” Tobin mumbles, because the fingers playing with the baby hairs at the back of her neck are seriously distracting. She hears Christen’s laugh right next to her ear, and it honestly derails her thoughts more than it snaps her back into attention. But she manages to clear some of the haze clouding her brain to speak. “It’s uh...oh, uhm—”

“Hon? Tobin?”

“There’s uhm…” She swallows thickly, feeling her nerves fix themselves at the back of her throat. But Christen is smiling at her like she already understands whatever it is even without saying a word, and Tobin feels her heart pound at the striking realization that there really is no one else she’d rather do this with.

So with a steadying breath, bolstered by Christen’s soft smile, she says, “There’s someone I would like you to meet.”

…

 

Traveling through space in the newly constructed Bifrost is a rather… unique experience. There’s nothing quite like the absence of gravity that drops in her gut as they venture deeper into space, and yet, there’s another unseen force that keeps them from drifting away from the Bifrost’s path. Like a leash tied around her waist, or maybe it’s Tobin’s arm around her that’s keeping her safe.

(Perhaps, a tad bit romantic, too, with her pressed against the other woman. For once, she is the one looking up at Tobin, the same way female leads do in those famous movies.

What can she say? You can take a woman out of romance, but you can’t take the romance out of a woman.)

They reach their destination in what honestly feels like a blink, and the next thing Christen knows, Thor’s booming voice is greeting them just as they float out of the bifrost and into the chute. “Ah, there she is, Heimdall! My pride and joy.”

He is in what Christen suspects is Asgard’s traditional noble clothes—Tobin has told her all about how her father dislikes the flashy silk and the much uncomfortable satin—yet, still looking like every bit of the regal king that he is.

She’s never really seen him this… _kingly_. The pictures Tobin has shown her all has him in Earth clothes, but he’s sporting the very same huge grin, making him seem less likely to break Christen’s bones (when the night goes on and she inevitably gets the dreaded _if you hurt my daughter_ talk).

Beside her, Tobin lets out a squeak. Christen can only stare at her in amusement—and muted adoration because Heimdall is smiling at her knowingly, as if he knows something she doesn’t. And from Tobin’s stories, he _probably_ does; but she won’t let him spoil her deepest darkest secret. It will be just her and _only_ her who’ll first tell Tobin those three words—as Tobin’s cheeks turn into the kind of red that Christen has always loved seeing on her.

Though, she’s surprisingly able to resist stealing a kiss from her girlfriend. But Christen figures that the six-foot hulking blonde man, together with his broad shoulders and bulky arms, definitely have something to do with that.

“And you must be Christen,” Thor turns to address her. He seems genuinely pleased to meet her, which, _thank God_. Christen doesn’t really know what she’d do if the God of Thunder—and now King of Asgard—disapproves and forbids her from seeing his daughter.

(She’d ask Tobin to elope to another galaxy, perhaps. Or get both Emily and Kelley to talk to him and convince him that despite being a mere, humble, mortal, she is good enough for someone as amazing as Tobin.)

“My Astrid’s betrothed!”

“I’m sorry, who?” Christen asks, confused, at the same time an embarrassed Tobin sputters out, “Oh my God, Dad we’re not—”

Thor tilts his head, the same way Tobin does whenever she’s confused, and there really is no denying that she is his flesh and bone.

“Well you are with her, correct?” He asks Tobin. “You two are together?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then there must be a feast!” Thor exclaims, and oh, _gosh_ , this is not what Tobin has planned. Dinner, a quiet, simple dinner is all she wanted, with her grandmother there and the great Odin himself (Christen refuses to believe he’s real and that he’s her grandfather). “Heimdall, let us in!”

Heimdall nods in obedience and gestures a hand. Despite the confusion at the sudden turn of things, Christen can only gape as the metal gates swing open, revealing a city that’s so foreign and alien, and _yet_ , not quite.

Thor leads them further inside the city, arms wide and spread open when he turns around to face Christen and his daughter again, beckoning them to follow.

“My ladies, welcome to Asgard!”

There are flying crafts everywhere, and cars that don’t even touch the ground. But there are little children running around the market’s streets, pavements lined up with all kinds of traders, fruits laid out and dried meat hanging by the small wooden stalls. People milling around the place, in hopes to find the perfect trinket. Just like back home.

Though, what’s most familiar is the fingers that lace with her own, and the warm palm that presses against hers. Tobin’s smile is what she knows of most, and Christen feels her soul settle _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i hope you all liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> in honor of avengers day! still going through my old stuff and making them t&c, because, again, why not, right? ;) there's still one or 2 left, though, hopefully, i can make the wip finally move forward haha


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